The StrangersReview

The definition of horror can be a difficult thing to grasp, and in what sense the term applies strictly to the horrific -- the gruesome, the strange – the last 10 years of horror films have been sufficiently entertaining. More and more, however, there's been a growing divide between the horrific and the terrifying, between that which is gory or disturbing and that which is legitimately scary. If the last decade has witnessed the rise and fall of American remakes; teen-friendly, PG-13 slasher flicks; and the hardcore Hostel/Saw torture motif; one wonders if -- in some small way -- The Strangers isn't a response to that.

For as effective as they are at offering up a healthy portion of gore or a comprehensive collection of long-haired, Japanese dead girls, those films are largely aesthetic experiences. And in the watered-down, semi-adopted sense of the word, most audiences might confuse them for "scary." But as a fan of those movies, it's a shocking experience when a small, tensely-crafted film such as The Strangers comes along – almost uninvited – and reminds you what the term "terrifying" truly means.

The set-up is as simple as they come. Two lovers (Scott Speedman and Liv Tyler), in the aftermath of a downturn in their relationship, are forced to spend the evening in a secluded, country home after returning from a nearby wedding. Enter the strangers – three masked psychotics who taunt and stalk the couple through the terrifying pre-dawn hours. Ironically, for a film called The Strangers the premise is incredibly familiar, but it's in the execution where the film succeeds.

Writer/director Bryan Bertino's freight-train of a horror film – perfectly-timed at a sparse 90 minutes – does a number of things absolutely right. It takes its time, and when it hits, it hits hard. It creates characters who behave and act like adults, making rational, if understandably panicked, decisions and rarely, if ever, descending into the utter stupidity of schlock-stock pre-victims. It's always a step ahead of its audience, constantly adjusting to address some question or concern at the very same moment it occurs to the viewer. It uses sound and silence as masterfully as any celebrated horror film to create a palpable sense of tension – every jump-scare, every sudden sound-cue has both context and reason. It develops a framework in which its killers' lack of motivation makes them more terrifying, not less believable. It sustains a constant level of horror with only two protagonists, largely by creating a playground in which the killers' intent isn't strictly to kill, but to terrorize. It's brutal without being gory; terrifying without being gimmicky….

Bertino's direction is appropriately devoid of any cinematic flash, opting instead for a 1970s throwback homage – hand-held and semi-real. Everything from the lighting, to the camerawork, to the design of the house itself contributes to a sense of the ordinary and the ultimate proof of the film's effectiveness is one's hesitance to enter their own lightless home when returning from the theater. Rather, the film excels on what we hear and what we see -- ominous, long-standing shots of a masked intruder standing beneath the lamplight, or the rattles and bangs as the psychopathic trio assaults the outside of the home.

Speedman and Tyler both give honest, believable performances, and while it's difficult to say exactly how one might act in a situation like this, they never seem to overact the circumstance. This is typified by small moments, such as Speedman not really knowing how to load the shotgun they discover hidden in the home; or in his initial disbelief that anything truly dangerous is going on. For the most part, the pair make smart decisions, and with the exception of one relatively foolish "let's-split-up" moment, where their choices might not necessarily be smart, they are, at the very least, understandable.

This is all not to say that the film doesn't have flaws – it does – but that it covers those flaws with its overall level of craftsmanship. There are a few rather obvious moments throughout the film – moments where the audience has a pretty accurate sense of what is going to happen – but The Strangers is smart enough to pepper into those moments elements which keep the audience guessing despite their certainty. An extended, if somewhat familiar, beat outside the home where an injured Tyler must stumble and crawl through 10 minutes of runtime is mitigated by the fact that the killers simply aren't interested in swooping in for the immediate kill, and Tyler's decision not to run or rush is based upon her understanding of that terrifying maliciousness.

The Strangers is certainly nothing new to the genre, but it certainly feels new in its delivery of legitimate, heart-pounding scares. For all their ghostly imagery or uber-realistic gore moments, the recent pantheon of modern-day horror films has yet to deliver as consistent and strong a sense of the terrifying – and terrifyingly possible – as The Strangers. Perhaps it's not a classic horror film – or even particularly a great one – but it is an effective and powerful reminder of what we should demand from our time in the dark, and what we've lost in our willingness to accept what we're given.